Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

The knife sliced a thin line across Fushuai's cheek. He'd caught the man's wrist with his gu-en, pushing the strike up and away from his neck by bare inches. He tried to put enough distance between them to have room to fight, but his opponent followed him through the grass, refusing to give him the space to breath. Metal scraped against metal, another near miss, and he kicked. It should have been a solid blow to the leg, but instead of cracking bone, the bottom of his slipper passed through an illusionary limb. The lack of resistance threw him further off balance, and in the next moment, the bright point of a blade was an eyelash's width from his eye.

"It's the sun," Fushuai said. "It makes me slow."

Zhang Sha stepped back, frowning as the skinning knife vanished into his storage ring. "The sun was out when we fought in the mountains. You were better then, and that was before you reached a peak."

He planted his staff, looking up through the circle of looming cliffs to a cloud-crowded sky. A brilliant coin glared at him from behind those clouds, a ceaseless admonition from the heavens. It was as if they knew that he had failed them.

"The ruin was rich with Yin from other sources, and we were shielded by the temple."

"Even so, it's a significant weakness. I knew your techniques were more effective at night, but if I had any idea how much Yang hampered you, we would have fought on the mountaintop."

Fushuai smiled softly. "Your mistake."

They had returned to the shrine almost a full decan ago, and had been training ever since. Until his master appeared, there was nothing else to do. He glanced at Bai Tu, the fox was chewing its way through a pile of rabbit bones on the steps of the shrine.

"It isn't just me," he said. "You fight better when you aren't half-mad."

Zhang Sha grimaced. "True enough."

His qi needed to be cleansed every few days. Otherwise, his life became a waking nightmare, and he would quickly lose himself. They spent the next several hours sparring, with the occasional thickening of the clouds giving Fushuai a slight edge. He received a few more lacerations and managed to bruise his opponent in exchange, but he was avoiding what he should have been doing. Having only recently achieved qi manifestation, he needed to develop his ability to project his aura and hone his killing intent. And yet, sparring was preferable.

Their battle of the spirit had nearly lost him his cultivation, if not his life, and he wanted the space to rest and recover. At least in the sense that daily combat drills could be considered restful. His insight had made him stronger, shown him the first step on an unknown Path, but it had also given him a glimpse of how small he was in the grand design.

Devour death? Who was he but a passing ripple in the river of eternity?

"Ahem."

Fushuai slid to a halt, his staff poised to crash against Zhang Sha's spine. His master was standing under the tree line with Goshung beside him. The Asura showed no sign of having been the target of heavenly fury a month before. His arms were crossed, and he was watching them with open suspicion.

"You're alright!" Fushuai was surprised at how happy he felt to see his mentor well and whole.

The horned devil rolled his eyes, and Xiao Sheng stepped past him.

"My pupil, if you would, I would like an explanation."

Zhang Sha had already fallen to his knees, realizing who was addressing them. He motioned toward him. "This is the rogue cultivator, and my sworn brother. He suffers from a qi deviation, but I was able to purify his spirit. Temporarily. He has given me his word that we will travel together until he has saved more lives than he has taken, and at that point, he will be free to ask for his death."

The elder glanced back at the Asura, who shrugged. When his gaze returned to Fushuai, it was utterly blank.

"Yes...just as I envisioned."

"I am humbled by your foresight." He gave a martial salute. "As I have reached qi manifestation, it was my understanding that you had plans for me beyond this mountain. I beg your permission to allow Zhang Sha to accompany me."

His master appraised him for a long moment. "Indeed, you are near the peak of qi refinement. The flag served its purpose well. It is fortunate that you have achieved this state so soon, as I do not have long to spend with you here. As to the rogue," his eyes flicked over the other cultivator as if he were a disturbance in the grass, "I already gave you my permission to do with him as you saw fit. There is one more lesson you must learn before I send you in search of your foundation. But before that, Fushuai, I must say that I am disappointed in you."

He bowed. "A thousand apologies, master. How have I failed you?"

"There is no lunch."

***

Fushuai cooked congee, if only because it was the one dish he could prepare that would not be completely dissatisfying to his master. The group spoke little as he cooked. Zhang Sha bowed repeatedly, uttering endless polite platitudes, and he couldn't help but note that neither master nor mentor corrected the older cultivator as they had him. No warnings about how prey animals behave, no suggestion that Xiao Sheng, the Living Blade, preferred not to bother with high titles and formality. They didn't treat him as an enemy, they simply accepted his reverence as their due.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

What makes me any different?

Of course, he was their disciple. But disciples, if anything, faced a greater expectation of decorum with their Seniors, not less. It wasn't that they treated him as an equal, as he certainly was not. More that they had granted him a familiar status. From a certain perspective, he could view that as marking him as something more, but it could also be likened to how one treated a favored pet. A dog was allowed to lick his master's hand, but it was still expected to obey.

He shook his head as he took the rice off the fire. It had been an unfair thought.

They ate in silence, and when it was time for the lesson, Zhang Sha excused himself to meditate in the woods.

"Why is this fox alive?" Goshung asked, picking pork out of his fangs with a claw.

Bai Tu yipped at him before hiding behind Fushuai.

"He is a good friend."

The Asura frowned. "Your judgment is questionable."

"There is something to be said for companionship." Xiao Sheng swept his hand over the remnants of the cookfire, and the embers died. "There was once a swordsman who walked ten thousand li alone. The journey made him strong, more skilled than any challenger. He was famous, rich, and well loved, at least by those who did not know him. Also feared. He traveled so far that he reached the end of the world and looked beyond. Do you know what he found there?"

It was rare that a parable ended with a question, and Fushuai assumed it was rhetorical. After a long beat of quiet, he realized his mistake and gave the obvious response.

"What did he find?"

"Nothing. There was nothing at the end of the world, and that nothing was only growing. So he returned the way he had come, and found that he had been gone so long that the world he remembered was gone. No one knew him there. Kingdoms had risen and fallen, babies were born, grew into men, and fought and died. He did not know their names any more than they knew his. His sword was as sharp as ever, but he no longer had a reason to cut. So he retired to the mountains and listened to the winds, hoping that their whispers would hint at what he was missing."

"What a waste," Goshung said. "He should have gone to the Battle Realms and kept his mettle."

Xiao Sheng's smile was as quiet as his voice had become. "Perhaps he should have."

Fushuai couldn't stop himself. "Who was that swordsman?"

His master scratched his chin and brightened. "You know, I have forgotten. Forgive an old man his fancies. We are meant to be discussing the last lesson before your journey begins. Give me the gu-en."

When the staff was in his hands, Xiao Sheng invited his pupil to watch his qi at work. Strands of pure Yin, manipulating the patterns of energy woven into the weapon, recalling the memories of the cores that had gone into its creation.

"Five cores for five elements. There was a reason for this. As you travel, you may find it useful to conceal your capabilities, as well as the nature of your root. To this end, you can use this tool to manipulate elements that would otherwise be foreign to you. Observe."

The dead embers of the fire began to glow again. Sparks rose, danced, and birthed a ball of flame. A moment later, the moisture in the air gathered to dampen the flame, and then all of it was smothered as the ashes of the fire lifted to drag them down. It wasn't a series of techniques. Instead, it was one skill applied in different ways. After a few more demonstrations, Fushuai thought he had the measure of it, and his weapon was returned to him.

"In order to reach foundation formation," Xiao Sheng said. "You will need to find a place where the Yin lies heavy and thick, far more so than this shrine. There is no special trick. It is a culmination of the first two stages, where the body is reforged again, bringing the advancements the cultivator has made in both bodily and spiritual refinement into alignment. You have the strength of will required. Continue to expand your meridians, reinforce your dantian, and begin to ponder your Path. It will find you when it finds you, either before or after foundation. The difficulty for most who reach this point is simply a lack of vital energy. You'll need more than you can find here to push through."

Fushuai's mouth dropped open. He hadn't told them, and unless they were testing him again, they didn't know. He inclined his head.

"A thousand apologies, but I have already found my Path."

Goshung growled. "You what?"

"It happened while I was combating Zhang Sha's deviation. I experienced a moment of insight, and I felt the way forward."

His master blinked. "It seems I left you alone too long. Very well. The choice has been made. I will not ask you for your insight, but what is the name of the road?"

Cheeks reddening, he answered. "The Path of Devouring Death."

Just saying it was embarrassing. It was the sort of thing a child might have made up on the training yard with his friends. Something that sounded grand, dark, and mysterious to a ten-year-old. But he knew the words were right. If there was another name for it, another cultivator who had found the same grain of truth and followed it to its conclusion, he did not know. And it did not matter. The silence stretched.

"Very well." With a flick of his finger, Xiao Sheng produced a scroll sealed with string and wax. It floated into Fushuai's lap. "After you reach foundation stage, open this. It will lead you to a manual that I left behind a few centuries ago. The knowledge it contains should be enough to guide you all the way to core formation. Keep the flag as well, I'm sure you'll find a use for it."

"Where will you be?" It felt impertinent to ask, but developing a core was the work of years for even the most talented of cultivators. It was strange to think he would be without his master until then.

"Goshung and I have an adventure of our own to embark on. If all goes well, we will meet again when it is done." He turned to the statue, and his gaze fell. "This shrine has stood here too long, I think. Such places should not continue to exist after they become empty. Practice the method I have shown you until you are skilled enough to return these stones to the wild without the use of your hands. That is when you will be ready to leave the mountain."

The note of finality in his words was unmistakable. His master had just returned, and already, he was leaving again.

"I will do my utmost to be worthy of your wisdom," he said, inclining his head. Cultivation was a solitary pursuit. Even with companions, or in a sect. He was not a child who needed his hand to be held. And yet, his stomach fluttered at the thought that this might be the last conversation he had with his master for years to come. "May I ask one more question?"

"You may, though I do not promise an answer."

"Why do you cultivate?"

He kept his eyes lowered, and only silence answered him. He did not raise his gaze again until the fox tugged on his sleeve. Both Xiao Sheng and the Asura had gone. In their place was a small silk pouch. He exhaled.

"Are you hungry, Bai Tu?" Ice blue eyes met his, and he smiled. There was still some smoked meat left, and he shared it with the fox before turning his attention to the staff and the task he had been left with. It would take time to learn how to use the Threads of Still Night to activate the cores bound within the weapon, but he thought he grasped the method. He would dismantle the shrine, stone by stone, and then move on. His master might vanish for a few years, but a cultivator's life was long, and his aim was still to become worthy of carrying the legacy of Xiao Sheng. That he would do.

But there was something else now, above it and behind. The purpose he had guessed at without understanding, still forming in his mind. An opponent, death itself. And through death, suffering.